


On Hold

by 401



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blowjobs, Bottom Tony Stark, Deepthroating, Domestic Avengers, M/M, Phone Sex, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, but not how you want it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 15:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16956783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/401/pseuds/401
Summary: Steve is on hold to the bank. Tony isn't getting any attention. We can't have that now, can we?





	On Hold

**Author's Note:**

> apologies in advance. I am horny and sleep deprived. Much love.

“Who ya’ talking to?”

“The bank.”

“Why aren’t you talking then?”

“I’m on hold, Tony.”

 

Steve was visibly irritated. His arms were half-crossed over his chest, one awkwardly posted to hold the phone. He was pacing too, short, bouncy little strides in irregular circles, as if engaged in a very uncoordinated waltz with himself and the cumbersome landline phone. It didn’t fit with the room, Tony had made this clear, but Steve had argued that ‘you can’t lose a landline’. He had let it go, sort of.

Steve covered the receiver with his hand and lowered his voice to an exasperated whisper.

“How many SHIELD certified accounts under the name Capt. Steve Rogers that have been gathering interest since the 40’s could there possibly be? What could she be checking?” He asked, leaning even further away from the handset.

“They…you’re on hold, Steve. She can’t hear you when you’re on hold,” Tony reminded him from his perch on the back of the couch.

Steve shot him a bitter look.

“Well when she _does_ pick up, I’m not going to be as impolite as you- Hello! Yes, that’s right…yes…yes.”

Tony clapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself hooting at the speedy return of Steve’s phone voice. The jump on octaves was enough, but the cheerfulness was the elegant royal icing on the mess that was Steve trying to sort anything out over the phone.

“You’re a masterpiece, you know that?” Tony crooned, tilting his head and leaning it on his hand.

Steve held up a finger and frowned.

“My…what account?” Steve asked, a sudden look of anxiety and defeat coming over him.

Tony gestured to him.

“Give me the phone, it’s painful to watch.”

Steve batted him away.

“The forth of the seventh, 1918,” Steve repeated slowly, irritation that was less easily hidden growing in his tone.

Tony found it endlessly amusing, finding the exact point at which Steve felt that he was out of his comfort zone and watching the predictable stages of his frustration. Self-doubt, frustration, confusion and finally, acceptance.

“I’m really digging this whole ‘stressed out suburban mom’ vibe I’m getting from you. It’s kind of hot.”

“Tony…”  


“You’re a MILF, Steve,” He continued.

 

“I don’t know what that is, Tony.”

 

“Google it. While you’re on hold. I think you should google it.”

 

“No.”

 

“On images.”

 

Steve held the handset away from his face once more and sighed deeply, closing his eyes and collecting himself, as if the answer to calm and patience was just behind his eyelids. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his free palm and glared at Tony.

 

“Tony, I just want one day…”

 

“Is it my fault that you are, as the French say, a fucking buzzkill?”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but faltered, shaking his head and turning his back on Tony who snorted a laugh, doing a restrained dance of victory and satisfaction as he slid on to the couch cushions. He reached out one bare foot, stretching his leg as far as he could and poked his toes into Steve’s waistband. The Captain cried out, arching his back away from the cold and slapping his back as if he had been stung.

“Jesus, Tony, put on some goddamned socks!” He hissed.

“Can’t. It interrupts the flow of my Chi. Messes with my creative genius,” Tony explained, standing up and wrapping his arms around Steve’s middle.

“I love you,” he cooed, craning to kiss Steve.

 

Steve raised his chin, only offering Tony his jaw and attempted to spin away, but Tony had adopted the awkward position of standing ON his feet, pinning them completely unless he wanted one (or both) of them to end up on their asses.

“You know what would cheer you up?” Tony whispered, nuzzling into Steve’s neck.

 

“What.”  Steve didn’t have the energy to make it a question.

 

“A blowjob.”  


“Don’t you DARE!”

 

Tony giggled as he sunk to his knees, thumbing the waistband of Steve’s jeans slowly, barely making contact with the skin, but bothering it just enough that a flurry of goosebumps rose on Steve’s sides.

 

“Tony, I _swear_ to God… Hi, yes this is Steve Rogers… No, I’m inquiring about an _existing_ account, I don’t want to make a new one… what’s an ISA?... no, I don’t have any children.”

 

He glared down at Tony as he said the word ‘children’, his brow furrowing in what could only be described as abject disappointment. Tony stuck out his bottom lip in as dramatic a pout as he could manage and tugged a little on Steve’s jeans. He listened as he hummed short responses to the woman on the phone until more of the tinny melody of the hold music played out.

“Oh my God, Tony, please,” He begged, “I need to concentrate or I’m going to end up with three grand of stuff I didn’t ask for and a fricking payday loan or whatever the hell an ISA is…”

Tony cut him off by palming him through his jeans and unzipping his fly, tracing the outline of his cock through his underwear and grinning triumphantly when it twitched at the contact and Steve cleared his throat unnecessarily hard in surprise.

“Stop it,” He whispered, “ _Tony.”_

Tony bit his lip to quell the smile that was aching his cheeks as he shuffled Steve’s underpants to mid-thigh. He rubbed him slowly, only tightening his grip when he felt him hardening, the muscles in hips shivering involuntarily.

“See, you’re tethered by the landline,” Tony pointed out between well placed kisses, “None of this would be happening if you’d just let me get you a decent phone.”

“Somehow, I think you’d still man- TONY!”

He took him into his mouth completely, sucking long and deep and revelling in the strangled gasp of incoherent discontent and suppressed pleasure that Steve stuttered out.

 

“Oh God… Hello...Yeah, I just want to update my address, nothing else needs to change just… _fuck…_ No! No not you, I’m sorry.”

 

Steve’s voice was tight and fast, falling out of his mouth as if he was desperate to be rid of the words. Tony turned up the stimulation, swallowing Steve to the hilt until his nose touched his stomach and running blunt fingernails up the back of his thighs.

The Captain covered his face with his arm, battling with the urge to hang up and let Tony have what he wanted. It was wrong, but nothing could dull the pleasure, not even embarrassment and anxiety.

Tony had a way of absorbing attention from Steve. As much as he complained, the feeling of Tony locking onto him, walking into a room and becoming the only thing that mattered, was intoxicating. It didn't matter where they were, or who they were with, it was a simple as a look, the slightest inflection of face was enough to have Steve completely preoccupied. And that was without being touched.

“Mr Rogers? Mr Rogers are you still there,” The woman on the phone was just barely audible.

Tony had refrain from choking himself by laughing.

 

“Mhm, I’m here. Sorry,” Steve replied, eyes squeezed shut and head tilted back.

He eased himself backwards slowly, sitting on the couch before fixing Tony with a tortured look.

“Don’t fight it,” Tony grinned.

Steve sighed and pulled him back, knotting his fingers in his hair and coaxing him to take him deep again. He dropped his head back against the back of the couch. He hoped desperately that the wet sound of suction and friction couldn’t be heard over the phone.

“Mm, how much do you wish you were bending me over that coffee table and railing me right now?” Tony half whispered and half moaned.

He nipped Steve’s hipbone, leaving a little crescent of red skin. Steve nodded, drinking in the tone of his voice and squeezing his eyes closed again. His hands flexed in Tony’s hair and pushed him deeper.

“See, you can’t deny anything now,” He continued, “You’re here playing righteous and trying to fuck my throat. You wanna fuck my throat baby?”

Steve shuddered out a breath as he fell apart, biting his fist and continuing to hum in response to the lady on the phone.

“Thank you for getting that resolved,” He managed, his voice cracking over the syllables, “You were very helpful.”

He rambled a hasty ‘bye-bye’ before slamming the phone down and slumping against the pillows.

“I can’t stand you,” Steve whispered weakly, “I really can’t.”

Tony raised an innocent eyebrow.

"Tony, I just had an orgasm whilst speaking to a bank teller, fix your face."

 

Tony stood up, straightening his t-shirt and smoothing his hair while Steve hurried his jeans back on as if he could still be caught. He climbed onto the Captain’s lap and wrapped his arms around his neck.

“You’ve got to go to that bank next week and look them all in the eye, not knowing who it was you spoke to,” Tony chuckled.

Steve grimaced.

“Can you set me up an online banking account, please?”

 

 

 

 


End file.
